BLADE & BASTARD: Return of The Hrathnir Volume 3

By Kumo Kagyu and so-bin

Within the dungeon, a famous weapon is nothing more than a basic blade. Even a broadsword that’s gutted a dragon can be reduced to shattered steel. Devastated, Garbage seeks out a replacement for her beloved sword...but what weapon could possibly match her? An old blade, sharp as diamond—the return of a legend. As ever, the dungeon’s maw yawns wide to swallow foolhardy adventurers, and Iarumas’s party continues to delve for treasure, for corpses, and for answers. One day, a member of Raraja’s former clan catches up to him and dangles a tantalizing proposition: in exchange for clues about the rhea girl’s whereabouts, Raraja must go into the dungeon alone. What could await him but a dark, lonely death? What awaits Garbage but a jagged, broken sword? And what slumbering legends might awaken in the blackest depths of the dungeon?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J-Novel Club
• Release date: Feb 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9781718393523

Book preview

Title1

Awoooooo!!!

The redheaded girl howled as she sprang at the stone devil. Her broadsword whizzed through the air, shattering the fiend into hunks of rock. The blade swung left and right, without regard for whether it hit anything, scattering pebbles across the burial chamber with each strike.

Eek...

Damn it! Show some restraint, moron! We can’t get in there!

Obviously, these haphazard swings posed an issue for her comrades—Berkanan and Raraja.

The boy Raraja cursed up a storm. Beside him, Berkanan put one hand on her triangular hat, attempting to shrink into herself. Considering her great size, it was a futile effort.

Why am I still on the front line? she wondered.

The Dragon Slayer, which rested on her hip, had remained silent ever since the recent battle against the red dragon. Now it was just a good sword, maybe a little sharper than most. Its motivation seemed to have vanished entirely.

Pathetic as it was to admit, Berkanan sometimes stroked the pommel, wondering if that battle had all just been a dream. At this point, Berkanan couldn’t imagine herself as a dragon slayer.

Yet, by comparison...

Wow...

Arf!!!

Garbage was the best she’d ever been. She swung her broadsword with gusto, scattering the pack of monsters. In a way, that was the same as ever—and yet, Berkanan felt as if the girl had even more vigor now. After all, Raraja, who used to be able to keep up with her, was currently lagging behind as he swung his dagger around, parrying blows from the gargoyles.

Garbage took the lead, diving into crowds of monsters, scattering them, and then moving on to the next group. The girl was having the time of her life. At least, that’s how it seemed to Berkanan as she watched Garbage smile with her fangs bared.

Is it because she was bathed in the dragon’s blood? Berkanan wondered aloud.

Perhaps, murmured Iarumas. He stood at the rear, watching with one hand resting on the black staff at his hip. Deep inside his black cloak, his eyes were focused—not on the three frontline fighters, but on the corner of the burial chamber.

Berkanan reflexively looked in that direction. Her eyes widened.

The creature was massive. Goat-headed. And it was lumbering toward them.

A new enemy, incoming from the side, Iarumas warned.

Wh-Whaa?!

A lesser demon?!

Berkanan! Raraja shouted, still surrounded by gargoyles. You handle things over there!

R-Right!

Her voice cracked as she responded to her name, but despite that, Berkanan headed toward the demon. From her perspective, her movements felt rapid, but to any objective observer, they would have seemed sluggish.

Drawing the Dragon Slayer in place of her staff, she sang out words of truth.

"Kafaref tai nuunzanme (Stop, O soul, thy name is sleep)!"

The sleep-inducing miasma of KATINO surrounded the goat-headed demon, blotting it out, obscuring it from sight.

Indeed, Berkanan had learned spells other than HALITO, the little fire. This was proof—at least one mote of it—that her fight against the dragon hadn’t been a mere dream.

And even if KATINO was still only a first-level spell, the most basic of basics in the dungeon, Berkanan saw things differently. For her, each spell was a joy. They filled her with love and pride, so much so that she wanted to cast them whenever she had an opportunity.

Work, work, work...!!!

Even a lesser demon was still a demon. Berkanan glared at the fiend, willing her magic to penetrate its spell resistance, though that mental effort had no impact on the result.

In reality, she must have just gotten lucky.

GARGLL?!

I...did it...!

The demon slumped to its knees, a threat no longer. At least, not until it reawakened. With the beast incapacitated, Garbage and Raraja could fully focus on the gargoyles.

Berkanan now understood why the other adventurers had been so dismissive of a mage who couldn’t even cast KATINO. Though she had expanded her spell repertoire, she had no interest in switching parties, even though she probably could.

Nice one! Raraja yelled.

Heh heh... Berkanan smiled, but not because of the compliment—it was a grin of satisfaction. Usually, her role involved drawing enemy attention away from the others, and she had been forced to behave more like a fighter. But this time, she’d been able to do her job as a mage.

It was rare that Iarumas needed to draw the black staff that was the origin of his sobriquet—Berkanan already knew that the staff harbored a saber with a frighteningly sharp edge. The color reminded her of stories she’d heard back in her homeland about a type of lacquer, dark as the night. I think the sword’s called...Black Japanned? Hmm, that’s also the name of a giant-killing sword from...Hiren, a land even farther to the east than Almarl.

When Berkanan had asked Iarumas if his sword was the one from Hiren, he’d simply said, That’s a good one, and denied it with a smile. If it were, I could tell you that there’s no opponent more rewarding than a frost giant.

That was probably a joke. Berkanan had only heard of such giants in the myths her grandmother told her that said, she also hadn’t seen dragons or demons before coming to the dungeon.

Are demons supposed to show up here...? Berkanan wondered.

The gargoyles were demons too, but they were weak, minor ones. They couldn’t even take form without a statue to inhabit. Lesser demons were another story. Despite their diminutive name, they were powerful enough to manifest themselves in the living world.

Maybe the ecology of the dungeon was still all messed up after the fire dragon went on its rampage, but...

"If you wanna think about that stuff, fine, but save it for after we’ve taken care of these things!" Raraja shouted as he desperately evaded a stone beak.

Oh, right...!

Berkanan lumbered forward, then let out a listless battle cry and swung around with the Dragon Slayer. Despite her lack of energy, the sword was still magical—more importantly, that massive body of hers made her stand out. It attracted attention. There was no reason the gargoyles wouldn’t go after a girl whose flesh shook with each great swing of her enchanted blade.

Wh-Whaa...aaaaaah?! There’s a whole bunch of them...?!

Nice! shouted Raraja. Keep on keeping ’em busy—just like that!

It was now his turn to go on the offensive. Abominations of stone—there was no way his blade could pierce them. Raraja would have once thought this, but now...

They’re not so hard compared to dragonscale!

The boy crouched, entering a gargoyle’s blind spot, then pounced, his dagger gripped tightly in one hand. Aim set on a vital point—then one sharp thrust.

The eyes can’t be hard too, right?!

This insight was a product of the experience Raraja had gained through surviving—proof of the growth he had achieved.

And thankfully, the creature’s right eye was softer than a dragon’s.

GAGLLL?!

The eye shattered as Raraja’s dagger plunged inside the socket. A cry of pain ripped out of the gargoyle—it sounded like a burbling drain spout.

Y-Yahhh!

And with the mass of stone blinded in one eye and writhing on the burial chamber floor, it was easy enough for even Berkanan to smash it. The golden ring on her finger sparkled as she unleashed a comically huge swing. Combined with the massive size of her body, the strike hit with almost titanic strength.

KLINK KLOCK?!

There was a satisfying cracking sound as the stony devil was battered to smithereens. And all that power from a mage! How many of the world’s fighters would have envied her blessed physique? Yet Berkanan found her form less than agreeable. Oh, unfair world.

Groaaar!!!

None of that mattered to the tiny shadow that raced through the dancing dust—Garbage.

The girl left the rest of the rocky things to the yappy one and the big one—she focused her aim on the sleeping idiot’s head. Her entire body tensed like a coiled spring, and then she let loose, unwinding, dancing with her broadsword. The blade sliced through the air, tearing straight toward the goat’s forehead.

Gling?!

Steel bit into flesh just a little, and then, with frightening ease, her broadsword shattered.

The excess momentum sent Garbage careening across the floor, the broken sword still in her hand. In front of her was the demon, now released from KATINO due to the painful bruise she’d inflicted (damage).

But Garbage’s focus (hit points) was still intact. With a low growl, the redheaded girl sprang forward, broken blade in hand.

Awoooooo!!!

Claws reached for her, but Garbage slipped past them. She raised the broken sword and smashed the pommel into the demon. The weight of that pommel, which had been enough to counterbalance the blade of a broadsword, came down with enough force to make the goat’s skull rattle.

But that was all—such a blow was not enough to vanquish a fiend from another world.

The demon spread its four arms wide, chanting words that could not be heard by human ears.

A spell?!

Uh-oh...! groaned Berkanan. Raraja was still preoccupied with the gargoyles—Garbage simply growled.

And so, Iarumas moved.

Die!

To Berkanan’s eyes, he appeared only as colorful wind. The instant his voice rang out, the black-robed man appeared before the demon. With a low shout of exertion, a white blade emerged from the black rod and traced four arcs inside the dungeon.

AAHHGGGG?!?!?!

The demon screeched. Four arms were sundered from its torso. The surging magical energy dispersed.

Instantly, Iarumas’s blade retracted in a brutal backswing, and the flat of it struck the demon’s throat.

A muddled cry. Blood gurgled from the goat’s mouth.

If I had MONTINO, things would’ve been different, boasted Iarumas. But without it, this is the way it’s done.

Awoooooo!!!

Garbage bounded in and pounced—her follow-up attack was merciless. The demon thrashed on the ground, ichor gushing from its four stumps.

Her target had not changed, not since her very first strike. Garbage lunged at the goatlike demon’s forehead. Before, she’d hacked into the spot with her broadsword, trading a minor laceration for a broken blade. Then she’d clobbered the spot with the weight of her pommel.

Grrrowl!!!

And now, that same spot suffered another blow from her shattered sword. Then another. Another. Her bladework, which usually looked like dancing, grew wild, and she slashed with the intensity of a feral dog.

On the fifth strike, the creature’s head split like a melon—gray matter splattered across the burial chamber.

Woof!

Covered in ichor from head to toe, Garbage gave it some more swings, still not satisfied. The goat-headed demon, which had long since slumped to the dungeon floor, spasmed erratically. The sounds of impact grew wetter with each blow.

Soon, its form would dissolve into mist, its soul vanquished back to whatever inferno it had crawled out of. But until then...

Hey! Raraja shouted. If you’re done over there, come help me out!

R-Right...!

Not long after that, Berkanan smashed through the last of the gargoyles. The burial chamber was once more as silent as the grave.

§

Woooo...

I guess even she can get like this sometimes...

Garbage emitted a low whine as she gazed down at her broken sword. Raraja had never seen the girl look so dejected—this was a far cry from her usual attitude.

She’s acting kinda childlike... That thought filled Raraja with an indescribable sense of awkwardness. If only she would do her usual thing and kick the chest just as he was in the middle of probing the inside of the lock.

Actually, no, that’d be a pain too...

Raraja sighed. The lock clicked open, and as he began to raise the lid, he felt a slight resistance.

Are you okay...?

Arf...

Berkanan crouched her massive form down next to the girl. She tried talking to her. Neither had much of an effect.

Raraja glanced in Iarumas’s direction as he struggled with the wire on the underside of the lid. As usual, the man was silent. He merely cast a dark glance in their direction from where he stood next to the wall.

Raraja bit his lip and, without meaning to, assumed a scolding tone. Why don’t you say something?

About what?

Her broadsword.

Ah. Iarumas nodded casually, like the whole thing just wasn’t a big deal. These things happen sometimes.

They do? asked Raraja.

Indeed. For instance, like when you try to unleash the power of a magic weapon without really understanding it. Iarumas chuckled softly and gave a light tap to the black saber hanging at his hip.

Raraja scowled, remembering his own experience with the Demon’s Stone. That’s not what I meant... he mumbled. But he kept his mouth shut after that. He didn’t feel like urging Iarumas to comfort Garbage, and he had his doubts that she would actually want that.

Frankly, Raraja wasn’t sure whether Iarumas even had the ability to comfort someone.

Asking him was a mistake from the get-go.

So, as Raraja figured out how to cut the wire, he put together his next question. What’re we gonna do after this?

Pull out, I suppose, said Iarumas. Our front-liner is missing a weapon.

No. I mean about her broadsword.

insert1

Aah. Iarumas nodded, his demeanor the same as it ever was. Well, either we buy a replacement...or we find an alternative. Beneath that dark cloak, the man’s expression grew very serious. And yet, there was a hint of jest in his voice. And that alternative could very well be in that treasure chest. That’s a big responsibility you’ve got on your hands.

"None of this is my fault!" Raraja clicked his tongue angrily and then returned to disarming the chest.

He selected a flat, file-like blade from among the new tools he’d acquired from Mr. Catlob. The wire in the chest was intended to trigger a trap when the lid was lifted upward. Who knew whether that wire would pull the stopper from a bottle of poison gas, fire a crossbow bolt, or set off an explosion.

Once it’s cut, it won’t be doing anything.

Raraja slid his delicate tools, which could never have withstood the rigors of combat, into the gap and proceeded to cut the—

No. This thing—it’s not a wire.

Raraja exhaled as he realized what his blade was touching.

A talisman. Much like a wire, it would trigger when the lid was lifted, but there was a difference—he mustn’t break a talisman.

This kind of thing’s why I can never let my guard down.

With the blade still in the gap beneath the lid, Raraja pulled a number of thin probes from his tool kit. Carefully, he then peeled the talisman away from where it joined the lid and box.

I didn’t need to hear your lecture...

Unsealing the box was Raraja’s job. He always harbored a sense of responsibility for it.

But right now, he felt like he was being even more cautious than usual, and focusing harder than ever. He didn’t like that. His normal prowess was enough—even without being extra careful, Raraja would have noticed the difference between a wire and a talisman in time.

In contrast to the eddy of thoughts whirling around in his head, Raraja’s hands worked with mechanical precision. He peeled off the talisman, then sucked in another breath. Carefully, he dropped the talisman inside of the box. His hands went to the lid.

Hey, I’m all done.

Look! He’s got it open, Berkanan said, her voice carefree. Maybe there’s a new sword inside.

Garbage rose to her feet, broken blade still in hand.

Woof.

She trotted over and barked at Raraja, demanding that he open it up already.

Raraja didn’t let her behavior bother him. The lid fell aside with a heavy thunk, and the treasure chest was open.

Silence consumed the burial chamber as they peered inside.

A small number of gold coins. A scroll. The cursed talisman Raraja had just peeled off. Nothing else.

Raraja winced. It’s not my fault, okay?

Yap!!!

Garbage gave him a good hard kick in the shin.

§

Oh my! Sister Ainikki’s eyes widened.

Nary a day passed without adventurers visiting the Temple of